


Tokyo to Toyama

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Abandonment, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, One Shot, Reunions, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Kevin loved Warsman.Even though they were parted, he knew they would be reunited.





	Tokyo to Toyama

_‘You can do this, Kevin . . .’_

_Kevin hunched over. He pressed his hands to his knees, as he panted for breath and cold air scorched the back of his throat with every inhalation. A few bursts of steam fled from his mouth, while his skin tingled from the icy temperature, and every step – slow and deliberate – brought loud crunches from the thick and fresh snow. The stars above were blotted out with the harsh streetlights, although a sliver of the moon could be seen on the black skyline._

_A few joggers ran past them, unaware of their identities. Kevin brought a hand to his face, strangely aware of the absence of his mask, and even just to turn his head felt wrong . . . the lack of weight, the lack of a firm presence . . . he frowned and pushed back a lock of mousy-blond hair. Lord Flash stopped at his side. A firm hand fell onto his shoulder, which squeezed just enough to catch his attention, and – with a warm smile – Kevin pulled himself upright and stood straight. Lord Flash leaned close and said in a whisper:_

_‘I will always believe in you.’_

_A few tears pricked at Kevin’s eyes. He took in a deep breath, as a broken laugh escaped his trembling lips and he rapidly blinked back the tears. Lord Flash winked and jerked his thumb ahead, where – just barely in eyesight – the lights from “Kevin’s Pub” flashed into view, with a small crowd congregating to celebrate the New Year that would soon roll into life. The end was in sight, with a new beginning to be experienced. Kevin cricked his neck and jumped on the spot, before he stretched out his arms and focused on the finishing line._

_‘He never once said that to me,’ said Kevin._

_Lord Flash winced, although the smile remained. He waited until Kevin resumed his jog, where he pursued at his usual few paces behind . . . no comments this time on form or speed . . . Kevin strove to keep him in his peripheral vision with small turns of his head, while Flash ran without any signs of exertion or frustration. Not a single cloud of breath. Not a single muttered complaint. Kevin almost missed the whispered:_

_‘My trainer was rather tough, too.’_

_‘Ha, you don’t know the meaning of the word “tough”.’_

_‘I do not wish to portray my trainer in a negative light, for he was a great man and a hero of his time, but his methods were most extreme,’ said Lord Flash. ‘I was unable to speak for a long period, broken by my time spent under his hand, and for a while longer only his visage could quell my bloodlust and terror. I hope to learn from his mistakes.’_

_‘Well, you’ve never made me feel anything less than a person. I’m not a hero or a villain around you, or an object to be claimed or a trophy to be showcased, but a person in my own right and one capable of redemption . . . I appreciate that, Lord Flash. Thank you.’_

_‘Your thanks are all I need, Kevin.’_

_‘With you, I feel like I can truly be a success above all others.’_

_Lord Flash stopped in their self-imposed marathon. He stood under the bright lights with a smile that reached his eyes, bringing a sparkle to their expressive surface. Kevin jogged on the spot, as his breath left him in cold clouds, and he rubbed a hand against his chest, as he swallowed hard and made a gesture as if to say “it’s cold, isn’t it”. Kevin struggled to control his racing heartbeat, as a lump formed at the back of his throat . . . panic nearly overcame him at the unintended moment of vulnerability, until Lord Flash pointed upward._

_The sign to the pub was finally clear, as Kevin stopped jogging and stood still. A deep and painful ache overcame his muscles, although it was eased a little by Lord Flash coming behind him and gloved hands digging through his black shirt to press against hard knots, and Kevin automatically relaxed as his flushed skin grew ever darker in the night. Lord Flash chuckled and slapped a hand gently against his back, before he chirped:_

_‘We’re at the finish line, Kevin.’_

_Lord Flash disappeared into the crowd. There would likely be a drink waiting for Kevin in a small booth, reserved in some far corner where no one would interrupt them, and they would discuss tactics and schedules until the night became day, even as the one thing he most wanted to say remained locked within his mind . . . always dying on his lips . . . Kevin blushed and slowly lifted his hand to the spot where Lord Flash had touched. He stroked at his shoulder and lowered his head, before he heaved a sigh and ran inside._

_* * *_

Kevin sat alone.

The bar was oddly quiet, save for the stray ‘ _irasshaimase’_. It was easy to catch the hummed tunes from the kitchen of a new chef, while the clock ticked loudly from against the wall, and yet every passing tick and tock . . . slicing through every second of time . . . brought him further and further into his self-induced isolation. There was no outside world. Kevin stared into his glass of beer until the brown liquid fell out of focus and all meaning was lost.

A bell rang out from above the door. There were very few people willing to enter a bar on a weekday, particular so early in the day, and too often the sole patter of lonely footsteps would echo out, as they chose to sit at some distance against the bar with the ‘usual’ slid down the perfectly polished wood. Kevin continued to hunch forward. He wrapped his hands around the glass, holding on tight until his knuckles turned white, and he said nothing even as this newcomer broke all etiquette and chose a spot directly beside him with a loud thud.

The new person practically threw themselves onto the barstool. Kevin winced as they called out in an overly cheerful voice for beer, only for the bartended to laugh and slide down a glass of milk instead, and – as an all too familiar whine emitted at a high-pitch – the bartender scoffed and walked away with shakes of his head. The newcomer sipped at his milk with muttered complaints, until Kevin let out a low hiss of breath through flared nostrils.

“I can’t be this unlucky,” said Kevin.

Kevin pushed away his beer. He turned in his stool, so that he could look the newcomer over, and – much to his frustration – the all too familiar two-toned blue uniform came into view, as the newcomer gave a goofy smile and presented a v-sign with laughter. The tuft of brown hair was messy and unkempt, as if Kid were fresh out of a training session. Kevin brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and held tight. The ridge of his mask made such a gesture difficult, but the sharp pain was enough to ground him as he spat in a cold voice:

“Why are you here, Kid?”

“Dude, you’ve been missing for ages,” chirped Kid. “Everyone was getting worried, because you’re . . . well . . . you’re the champion! You won the Chojin Olympics, and you helped save Meat from certain death, but you’re just kind of . . . I don’t know . . . moping around in here, which sucks. Meat wanted to call Robin Mask, but –”

“ _He didn’t?_ If he bloody –”

“– Mars said not to call him, unless it was a last resort. Look, they were talking about sending someone else to come talk to you, so – yeah – maybe it’d be better if I wasn’t here . . . I admit I don’t know what it’s like to have grown up like you or to be popular like you or to have –”

“Is there a point to this, Kid? I would like to be alone.”

Kid narrowed his blue eyes. He pursed his lips together, until they were a thin line, and snatched at the mug of milk before him, as he downed the contents and slammed the mug hard on the counter with a loud huff. It would be too easy to instigate a fight . . . a few trigger words on either side would be enough . . . still, Kid was no longer the fourteen-year old from when they first met, but instead a young man nearly an adult. Kevin rolled his shoulders beneath the pink of his shirt and leather of his coat, as Kid finally issued a sigh.

“I guess I do know what it’s like to be kind of lonely, though.” Kid hummed. “I’m the least popular Chojin, with the worst grades, and even my teammates tease me from time to time, or at least don’t rely on me for the major stuff. I – I saw how hollow your victory was against me, because you kind of looked all . . . sad. You cried and reached out for Lord Flash.

“Well – ah – Warsman, I guess. I can’t imagine what that was like . . . having your mentor and best friend there, _right there_ , only for them to turn their back on you like that? He just kind of walked away. I felt really bad for you, because – if my friends did that – I think it’d break me and make me just want to retire. I just . . . you know that I wasn’t _really_ teasing when I said that I thought you were gay? I always thought you liked Warsman like a lot.”

“Shut up, Kid. I am not having this discussion.”

“Look, I’m just saying that I don’t know _why_ he left, but I can understand why it’d hurt so much if you were . . . like . . . _into_ him.” Kid shrugged. “Literally or figuratively, I’m not judging! I won’t say I get it, because I’ve never really loved someone like that, but I know I do love Meat and Wally and Terry and –! It’s not the same, I know, but it’s still like losing someone and being rejected, right? So – yeah – I just want to help you out.”

Kevin jerked to his feet. The barstool fell behind him with a loud clatter, until it finally fell still and left a long shadow along the floor from the low window, and – as Kevin pressed his gloved hands flat to the counter – he lowered his head and breathed deep. Every beat of his heart was fast and hard, as the adrenaline coursed through every vein and constricted his vision until the outer limits turned a murky black. He flared his nostrils. A lock of long blond hair fell forward, where it touched against the wood and grew dark against a speck of beer.

He spun around snatched at Kid’s collar. He grasped the material until it nearly ripped, as he yanked Kid out of his stool and sent him stumbling forward, and lowered his head until their masks nearly touched. It was difficult to breathe, as steam condensed against the inside of his mask and formed uncomfortable moisture.  Kevin stared down. Kid kept his cool, even as his hands held tight to the muscled wrist and his face contorted in discomfort.

“You?” Kevin asked. “ _You_ want to help _me_?”

Kid pushed at Kevin, knocking him back a few steps. It was an act of assertion rare for Kid, enough that Kevin slowly lowered his hands and relaxed his posture, and he cast his eyes up and down the form of his colleague that stood awkwardly before him. Kid cocked his head to the side and placed his hands to his hips. The gesture was stolen from Meat. A few seconds passed, until Kid brought a finger to his lip and looked upward, as he asked innocently:

“Hey, is this all about Robin or something?”

Kevin screamed. A fist clenched until blood poured under his glove, while crescent-shaped cuts appeared against his palm, and – as tears streamed down his cheeks – he saw only a mist of red . . . spatters of colour, hazes and blurs . . . blow after blow descended on Kid, until they collapsed down against the grimy floor. Kid was defensive. He raised two forearms to block the blows, while Kevin struck again and again and again until all energy left him.

The tears soon blotted out the world around him, as his fists fell flat and Kid finally dropped his guard, and Kevin – with a primal growl – pressed his hands against the thick throat of his friend, although he his fingers remained loose and a mere ‘threat’ with their presence. Kid reached for him and rested a hand on his shoulder, where he squeezed with an awkward smile, and Kevin relaxed every muscle until his arms bent and shoulders slumped. He braced his weighed on either side of Kid, until Kid finally teased in a nervous voice:

“I – I thought you were over your daddy issues.”

“Is this what you think this is about?”

“Honestly, it _did_ cross my mind if Warsman was like a father figure to you.” Kid spluttered as Kevin pressed harder. “O-Okay! I – I’ll shut up, I swear! I just figured that it was kind of weird that someone who loved you so much would just up and leave, right? I know you don’t like talking about him, but even Robin was there when you won against –”

“I swear to _God_ , Kid, if you don’t stop –”

“I – I just don’t think he would have left you alone! You talked about a monk who randomly found you in Toyama, right? I figured that was odd. Meat looked into the guy; no followers, not registered with any services, just . . . _there_. I thought we could take a look? You carry around Lord Flash’s mask with you, so he has to mean _something_ to you, so why don’t we look around and see if we can find Lord – er . . . Warsman. Let’s try there.”

Kevin loosened his hold on Kid. He fell to the side and stretched out his legs, while Kid bolted upright and rubbed against the muscles of his neck, and – as both men struggled to compose themselves – a loud cough came from behind the bar. Kevin waved a hand to signal to the bartender, who stormed away with a loud huff and something muttered in colloquial Japanese that brought a giggle from Kid, even as Kevin furrowed his brow. It took a few minutes before Kevin could pull himself into a standing position and crick his neck.

“I thought I saw him,” said Kevin. “I passed out during my training, while I was losing blood and growing delirious . . . I remember someone carrying me in their arms, but when I looked up -? It was his face. I must have imagined it, but I thought it was him . . .”

He threw a hand to Kid, who took it and rose in turn. Kevin slapped a hand on Kid’s back, as he nodded with a curt gesture, and Kid simply nodded back with a forced smile, before they lifted their stools and returned to their seats. The clock ticked loudly as they toyed with their glasses, until Kid heaved a long sigh and waved for another mug of milk. A fresh mug was slid down the bar and caught easily in one hand. Kid pursed his lips and said:

“Maybe it _was_ him. . .”

* * *

_Kevin was limp._

_The snow blustered around him with heaving roars of wind, but somehow – against all odds – not one snowflake fell upon him. A firm and cool body blocked the wind. It was a familiar sensation, like warm blood entwined with icy metal, and his mind automatically fell to Warsman whose cyborg form combined the best of biology and technology. Kevin turned his head and a face drifted in and out of focus, as his vision doubled with the strain._

_A faint glow from the power-plant gave the man an aura. The blackness of his skin stood out even in the darkness, but his eyes . . . red, bright, expressive . . . Kevin lifted his trembling hand towards them, as he smiled to see what he once thought gone forever. A pain in his shoulder sent his arm hurtling downward. It couldn’t be Warsman . . . it couldn’t be the man that turned his back on him, ignoring his cries, and walked from his life. Tears pricked at Kevin’s eyes, as he choked on laughter and bile and low moans._

_The snow crunched underfoot . . . Kevin was dizzy. The world spun and his vision blurred, while he strove to cling onto consciousness . . . if this were Warsman, not just a dream, he could not let him go again. Tears spilled. Kevin shivered. He held on and sobbed, while he strove to reach upward again . . . only for his hand to fall limp again. The consciousness drained from him . . . the strength, the courage . . . Warsman was the last face he saw._

_* * *_

The old hut was just as he remembered. A line of footsteps led toward the wooden structure, where they stopped at an open door that revealed an array of beautiful figures, and – as the gold from each one gleamed in the starlight – Kevin bent to take one into hand. It was different to the others. There was no portly shape of a Buddha, but instead the masked shape of a Chojin with distinctive waist-length hair and burning gold eyes.

A draught blew through the hut, as the back door swung in the wind. It slammed against the doorframe with an eerie rhythm, until a few crunches of snow drifted into earshot, but they were faint and fast . . . not the slow and deliberate steps with which he longed to be reacquainted. The door was thrown wide. Kid shuffled from foot-to-foot, as three rows of footsteps were showcased behind him: two from his trek in and out of the woods, but one from a large shoe-size that drifted out into the darkness. Kid muttered:

“You’re not going to believe this, but they –”

Kevin raised a hand. The silence was unusual for Kid, especially to see him lower his head and blow warm air onto his gloved palms with shuddered breaths, and Kevin smiled with a low scoff, as he ran a hand over his mask and shrugged. A howl of the wind echoed around them, as Kevin walked through the hut toward Kid. There was a scent of _borscht_ was heavy in the air. Kevin breathed deep and closed his eyes, as he asked:

“Let me guess, they just stop?”

Kid winced and forced a smile. He scratched the back of his neck, as Kevin stepped around him and entered the back yard of the hut, and they stood awkwardly beside one another, while Kevin cast a slow gaze across the woodlands. It was impossible to see into the distance, as the snow clouds gathered and swirled and obscured much of the view. Still, only a few feet from them sat a small campfire and several pieces of half-cooked meat on a skewer over the smouldering remains. Kid kicked childishly at the snow and croaked out:

“Yeah, it was like whoever was there just . . . vanished.”

The snow crunched underfoot, as Kevin strolled toward the fire. He knelt down and removed the skewer from the fire, before dropping it into the snow with a sizzle, and examined the various ingredients that lingered around the fireplace, all neatly ordered. Kid sat beside him on an upturned log, before he picked at a bowl of _borscht_ and sipped with a hum of contentment. Kevin chuckled. The bowl would be missing the meat, but otherwise it would taste exactly like the homemade recipe handed down through generations. Kevin hummed.

“There was someone recently here . . .”

Kevin pulled the glove from his fingers. He slowly reached to the still glowing embers, only to press his callused hand to the red flames, and he held it there as the pain slowly increased in steady increments, until it reached a crescendo and his arm trembled. He held it in place, until – with a loud cry – he yanked it back against his chest. The tears spilled. A searing and stinging ache throbbed through his palm, while he panted for breath and asked:

“Why did he flee from me?”

A clatter followed as Kid put down his bowl. There was a shuffle of movement, as Kid crouched beside him and dropped hands onto shoulders, and he squeezed just gently enough for Kevin to find strength to look upright. Kevin clutched his burned hand to his chest, while every beat of his heart throbbed in the wound. Pity shone in blue eyes. Kid slowly rose to his feet, before he pulled Kevin into a standing position, and finally whispered:

“Hey, let’s head back to Tokyo . . .”

* * *

_The world was distorted . . . one country bled into the next, as one language merged with another . . . he was running, but he was watching himself from outside . . . another body, another person . . . all he knew was Warsman was ahead . . . walking . . . slow. He could catch up if he just went a little faster, called a little louder . . . no matter how fast he ran, Warsman grew further and further out of reach. It was an impossible task._

_Kevin screamed for him, as the world disappeared around them. Warsman was slow enough now that he stood perfectly still . . . a statue in a liquid world . . . Kevin ran until his limbs gave way, but soon his legs were stiff and heavy. He was wading through treacle. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to run, as he could make no progress. Tears fell. Kevin struggled to control his racing heart, as Warsman grew smaller and smaller and smaller . . . a distant figure out of reach, even as he reached ever toward him. Kevin screamed as his heart broke._

_The world exploded into colour._

_He bolted upright in bed . . . panting. The small apartment drifted back into view, as the light from the_ en suite _let loose a beacon onto his small stove and pans, and the front door revealed a small glow from the peephole that was momentarily blacked out, as if someone were watching him from the outside. Kevin shivered. He snatched a flannel from his beside table, as he wiped the sweat from his face and bare chest. The racing heartbeat soon slowed, as he found enough awareness to climb from his futon and crawl to his wardrobe._

_The paper doors slid open wide, revealing an array of uniforms and masks. On one shelf sat several framed photographs . . . one with Robin, as he accepted the Championship belt, and another from a magazine cover and he exposed his tattoo . . . the largest photograph – eclipsing all others – showed Warsman in a natural pose, a photograph stolen during a match when he failed to notice. Kevin stroked at the glass with a half-smile._

_‘When will you stop running from me?’_

_On the shelf below sat the mask of “Lord Flash”, just beside a shard from Mars’ tail, and Kevin wrapped his hands around the white metal and lifted it high, while he ran his thumbs over the blue accents painted across its surface. The man behind the mask may have bore another name, but it was still the same soul . . . still the same man that made him laugh and cry, who inspired him to fight on and gave him courage to back down. Kevin cradled the mask to his chest, as he took a staggered breath and whispered out:_

_‘Please, just come home.’_

_* * *_

London was different. The spirit was the same, as the multi-cultural community brought together a truly unique ensemble of people from all over the globe, and – so unlike in Tokyo – every word heard was brought from a totally different language group, especially as he made his way through the city itself and listened to the tourists. It took very little time to find the residential areas . . . the affluent sections, the quiet areas . . . Kevin noticed the trees were grown ever higher, while the paving slabs were changed to latest styles, and the houses -?

The terraced houses were the same uniform appearance, with the same wrought iron fences and same commuters in expensive suits, and yet there were small and subtle changes, like the colours of the doors and the style of the curtains. The biggest change was that it was no longer ‘home’. He could not find Robin’s house. Kevin slowly counted the even numbers on the left side of the road, while he kept his head down to avoid attention.

A few curtains twitched at the long-haired youth, while a mother crossed the road on sight of his knee-high boots and ankle-length leather coat, and – pinching the bridge of his nose – he issued a long sigh and finally stopped before the correct number. The letterbox shone in the bright sunlight. Kevin stared hard at the many steps that led to the door, while the fences partially blocked the below ground-floor windows from sight, and a curtain twitched from a window on the upper levels that betrayed a resident inside. He grew light-headed.

“Well, this is it,” said Kevin.

Kevin drew in a slow breath, as he screwed shut his eyes. He opened them only when spots danced on his vision, before he leaped the stairs in bounds and ignored how his stomach churned, and instinctively he turned the handle as he sought entry, only to find the door locked and no key to make entry without permission. The nausea rose in his stomach, as tears pricked at his eyes, and he lifted his hand to bang at the knocker. A voice called out:

“You would go so far as to ask Robin for help?”

The voice was familiar. Kevin froze with a trembling hand outstretched, as pale fingers barely touched at the metal, and – with heart pounding in his ears – he daren’t bring himself to hope after so long in search, even as a cold sweat broke over his flesh. He slowly dropped his hand. Kevin turned and looked down to see Warsman barely disguised beneath an old coat, although his eyes watered with human tears despite his cyborg physiology.

Kevin stepped down. He stepped again. Each movement grew quicker and quicker, until he was finally within arms reach of the man out of his life for so long, and his arms flung themselves around Warsman out of sheer instinct. He clung tight, terrified to relinquish his hold. Tears spilled from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. They tasted bitter on his lips. Warsman draped his arms around Kevin in turn, clasping him in a tight embrace that enveloped him in familiar warmth, and finally the world felt _right_. Kevin choked:

“I – I thought you were gone forever.”

“I never thought my absence would mean this much to you,” confessed Warsman. “I watched over you whenever possible, as I could never let you go, but I failed to realise it extended both ways or that you would ever still want me . . . if I am honest, I wanted to leave you before you would leave me. I thought you would hate me after all I hid from you.”

“Why – _Why_ – would you ever think such a thing?”

“I was Robin’s pupil and his friend. I know how conflicted you feel, Kevin; I know how you both love him and hate him with a single breath, which is why – if I came to you in my true form – we both know that you would have rejected my help and my offer to train you. I may have come to you as a favour to Robin, but I stayed by your side out of love for you.

“How could I explain, Kevin? I thought you would be betrayed. You were lied to by someone you would have despised under ordinary conditions, but one also forty years your senior and one considered a monster in his time . . . trained to be a killer by his government, trained to be a demon by his friend. I had fulfilled my purpose with helping you achieve success, but that success was _your_ hard-earned victory . . . what purpose had you for me any longer?”

Kevin laughed. The pain and pleasure, the love and hatred . . . it merged and played and danced until it became one in his mind, while every look at Warsman brought back a wave of emotion so strong that it threatened to knock him over, and yet the anger – _the rage_ – was beyond anything he could endure. It bubbled and boiled inside him. He panted for breath, as he wrenched away from Warsman and flushed with the depths of emotion. He clenched his hand until knuckles turned white, and finally . . . _finally_ . . . delivered a ringing slap.

“You – You are an absolute _fool_.” Kevin snarled as Warsman nursed his cheek. “My father all but abandoned me after I ran away from home, always expecting me to make the first move to reconciliation, and now you – you – _you_ . . . you came back for me, after all this time! Did you really think you are anything like my father? You’re loyal and generous and – and – and you _respect_ me. You made me believe in myself even when no one else did!”

“You can do better than me, Kevin. You could have the world at your feet, but here you are at the door of the man that still makes you doubt yourself . . . hate yourself . . . you would have sacrificed your pride and ethics just to find me. I want you to be happy, even if I must give up my dreams of being with you in the process. I do not deserve your love.”

“Let me be the one who decides that,” spat Kevin. “For once . . .”

Kevin drew in a deep breath. He cast his eyes up and down Warsman, as he took in every last detail, and he winced to see how Warsman still rubbed at his now darkened cheek, which would bruise with the force of the slap. Kevin took his hand. A few digits were metallic and stiff, hiding the flesh and bone beneath, but the outside was smooth to the touch and responded to every stroke of his fingertips. He brought the hand towards his lips and placed a lingering kiss to the brown skin. Kevin blinked back his tears.

He pulled back with flushed cheeks. A small broke over Warsman, as a tear ran down the metal of one cheek and a faint whirring could be heard of the cogs hidden just behind, and Kevin – still holding his hand with a gentle hold – leaned down to kiss away the tear. Warsman laughed and pulled him flush against him, while Kevin continued to kiss at his cheeks and ran his hands over his jaw and cheeks, while he sobbed:

“Thank you for coming back to me.”

* * *

_Kevin hummed. The callused fingers ran through his blond locks, massaging at his scalp in a way that brought absolute pleasure, and it was a touch that he barely remembered, but that only Warsman had breached such a level of intimacy. He was nearly lulled into a sleep, as the warm blankets covered them at the waist and tangled in their legs. The press of a firm chest against his taller frame provided a great comfort. Warsman was with him._

_A slow tune drifted from the radio of an upstairs apartment, while the cars on the streets beeped their horns in an impatient rhythm, and all around them sounds of life appeared to remind them of their place in the world, while they lay as close to one another as physics would allow. They remained mostly clothed, yet there were no boundaries. Kevin slid a hand to the broad chest in search of a heartbeat, where – with a low sigh – every thump could be felt firmly against his palm. This was the life he had always dreamed._

_The small apartment was alive with photographs. A collage plastered the wardrobe doors of images stolen from where Warsman lay asleep or from the ringside, so that Kevin could memorise him from every angle and every scenario, but most of his memories came from mornings slowly awakening to see Warsman smiling down at him. He entwined their fingers and moaned, as Warsman continued to stroke at his hair and whisper:_

_‘Would you have really spoken to Robin just to find me?’_

_Kevin gently extricated himself, as he rolled on top of Warsman. He sat astride him with a low hum, while he ran his hands over the firm chest beneath him, and memorised every scar and every pulse point and every groove of muscle. The silence between them was broken only by soft laughter and exchanged touches, as Warsman toyed with the long locks of hair that tickled at his waist and hips, before resting his hands on muscled thighs._

_A low laugh escaped Kevin. He pressed a hand to either side of Warsman’s head, until his long hair curtained around them and cast them in a world entirely of their own making, and – with a mewled sound – he placed a chaste kiss to the metallic mouth. Kevin quickly pulled away with a blush, as he brought a loose fist to his lips and looked to the side. It was easy to fight inside the ring, but there was something about the close proximity . . . the intimacy . . . it brought a vulnerability to him that caused his heart to race, as he whispered:_

_‘I would have done anything to find you, Warsman.’_

_Tears pricked at Warsman’s eyes, as he sat upright. He wrapped his arms around Kevin and nuzzled against his neck, hiding his eyes in the process, even as he shivered with a mixture of faint sobs and laughter, and soon – with tears in turn – Kevin embraced him with equal fervour and kissed all along his neck and shoulders. They remained locked together until the light grew dim and darkness fell from the shifting hours, and Warsman pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together, as he brushed back a lock of blond hair._

_‘Call me Nikolai,’ whispered Warsman._

_It was a soft declaration. The first time Kevin heard the birth-name aloud. A spark of pride and love coursed through him, as Kevin pulled back with wide eyes and parted lips, and he saw the vulnerability and instinctual fear writ across Warsman’s features. He laughed through tears of happiness, as he placed kisses upon kisses to those soft cheeks, and took rough hands and brought them to his lips. He placed another lingering kiss._

_‘Nikolai,’ said Kevin. ‘My Nikolai . . .’_

_Nikolai wept with love._


End file.
